Upon returning to Savannah after spending time outside of my regular altitude (and attitude) last week, I found myself in a familiar state of mind, which is to say, conflicted: It was great to be home. And also, terrible. Most readers understand that my much-fettered fealty to our storied city includes routine gimlet-eyed surveys of how much it can sometimes sucketh, starting with stepping out into the open-mouthed beast of July in the swamp.